


Closer

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Comeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:04:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Chris takes a knife to Peter's skin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by Temaris.
> 
> This one covers both MMoM and the 'Bloodplay' square for Kink Bingo.

Peter can barely move, fucked open and loose from where Chris is driving into him, hard and sharp, until Peter can do nothing else but come, spilling over Chris' fingers.

"I love you like this," Chris murmurs, his voice low in Peter's ear as he pulls out, his cock still hard.

"Naked with my legs spread?" Peter huffs a laugh. "At least you're an easy man to please, Argent."

The slap to Peter's thigh that accompanies Chris' snort flares bright across his skin for a second before Chris' fingers move over him, soothing over the mark that Peter can already feel fading. His fingers are still moving over Peter when Chris' eyes flick to the bedside cabinet, flick to what he'd laid out there earlier.

"Are you ready, Peter? Can I?"

Peter nods. He always nods. Because Chris' eyes are bright as he looks at Peter, and Peter wants that look to last.

Chris reaches out for the knife, sharp and bright, with the Argent crest carved into the hilt. He straddles Peter's thighs, his left hand swiping through the come on Peter's stomach before holding his messy fingers to Peter's lips.

Peter's tongue darts out, lapping his own essence off Chris' fingers until they're clean.

"Good boy." The words are barely a breath from Chris' lips, as Chris reaches out, pulling the skin just above one of Peter's nipples taut.

He smiles at Peter, wild and free, smiles as he brings the knife down, smiles as--

Peter arches up as the knife slides into his skin, clean and perfect as it drags through his flesh.

Chris grins as he lifts the blade away, the thumb of his free hand gathering up the blood that wells up from the cut. He rubs the blood across Peter's nipple, slicking it over the hard nub even as the cut heals.

"I wish I could mark you permanently." Chris' voice is soft, and Peter would think that was a wistful tone, if he didn't know Chris better. "Show everyone who you belong to."

Only, he already wears Chris' mark. Chris' scent is ingrained so far into Peter's own that every single wolf within a five mile radius will be able to tell who Peter belongs to with just one sniff. But Peter knows what Chris means, knows that Chris wishes the marks were physical enough that everyone could pick up on it, not just those with supernatural senses of smell.

The knife comes down again, this time a swirling loop over Peter's hip. He hisses as the blade digs a little deeper than before, hisses as Chris pulls the skin apart to let the blood run more freely. Peter can feel it sliding over his skin, dripping off him to soak into the sheet beneath him.

There's blood on Chris' fingers from where he pulled at Peter's skin, dying his fingers red and running down onto his palm as he holds his hand up to his face.

Peter shivers as he watches Chris lick the blood off his hand, watches Chris take Peter's blood into him.

"Chris--"

Because Peter wants more, wants to feel Chris' knife across his skin, breaking him open. Wants to come apart for Chris, split open on blade and cock.

Chris reaches out, a streak of Peter's blood still on his palm, reaches out and takes Peter's hand, tangling their fingers together. Peter feels Chris' grip tighten as he brings the knife down, slicing along Peter's stomach. The cut is long, but shallow, and Peter can already feel it healing.

Pulling his hand away from Peter's, Chris presses his fingers against Peter's stomach, holding apart the skin that hasn't yet knitted back together. Holding it apart and slicing into it again, deeper and sharper, and Peter can't stop the moan that comes from him, can't help the way his cock twitches.

Putting the knife between his teeth to hold it, Chris swipes his fingers through some of the come still decorating Peter's skin. Swipes his fingers through white, before he's rubbing it into the cut, a mixture of pink-tinged blood and come being spread over Peter's flesh.

Peter rolls his hips at the sting, and he wishes Chris was still inside him, still fucking into him in long, lazy strokes.

"Chris. Chris, please--"

Because Peter's mind is a haze of want and need, the scent of blood and come in the air, so thick he can almost taste it resting on his tongue. There are words there, he knows there are, but they're stuck in his throat. Stuck so far down that the only ones that can escape are _Please--_ and _Yes--_ and _More--_ and _Chris--_

Chris takes the knife out of his mouth, pressing the tip to Peter's nipple, hard enough so that he can feel it, but not to break skin.

"You look so fucking perfect like this, Peter," he says, trailing the tip of the knife across Peter's chest.

Chris presses harder on the knife and Peter feels his skin opening around the blade, feels his flesh slicing and his blood welling. The knife moves across his skin, curving in a pattern it takes Peter a minute to recognise. And he's a wolf, a Hale, so he should be objecting to the fact that Chris is carving the Argent crest into his flesh, should be hating each careful slice, but he doesn't. And the only reason he's not pushing up into the knife is that he doesn't want to mess up the design.

The cuts are deep enough that Peter doesn't start healing straight away. Deep enough that Chris gets to finish the full crest, sitting back on Peter's thighs with a look of achievement on his face when it's done.

Carefully placing the knife back onto the bedside cabinet, Chris reaches out for Peter's hand again, gripping it tightly. He keeps his eyes on Peter's as he drops his other hand to his cock, wrapping his fingers around the still hard flesh. He jerks himself roughly, and part of Peter wants to open his lips, wants to swallow Chris down. But then Chris groans, shuddering as he comes, splattering white and hot over the mark he's carved into Peter' skin.

"Mine."

Chris' tone is hot, possessive, and it triggers something in Peter, pushes him to tilt his head, to bare his throat for a hunter.

Chris grins, bending down to nip Peter's exposed throat, biting down as his chest presses against Peter's, against the cuts in Peter's skin.

When Chris pulls back, Peter's blood and a mixture of their come is smeared across his chest, and the feeling of _Mine--_ flares bright and sharp in Peter. Because if he's Chris', then Chris is his.

And god help anyone who tries to stand in their way.


End file.
